


The Groom of the Wolf

by kuutar (teapertti)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapertti/pseuds/kuutar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night by night, the shadows grew darker inside their home and inside their hearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Groom of the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Sudet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2238861) by [teapertti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapertti/pseuds/teapertti). 



> I listened to the song "Sudenmorsian" by Johanna Kurkela and somehow I got to write this. Finnish schlager music sure does miracles. (Translation of the original A/N. See notes on the translation itself below. "Sudenmorsian" translates as "The Bride of the Wolf.")

A church bell rings somewhere to mark that the clock has struck ten as Armin stops in front of a bakery. He carefully considers the reflection he sees in the shop window, noticing that his blonde hair is messy, even though he's combed it for the first time in three days. After hesitating for a while, he opens the door and steps in, accompanied by a tinkle from the bell above him. He is instantly greeted by the delicious scent of freshly baked bread.

The shopkeeper welcomes him and continues doing his daily work. His duty demands precision; he dips a spoon in a honey jar and then sprinkles the golden liquid onto the pastries in front of him. Armin looks at the boxes and containers around him. Inside them there are all sorts of stuff: French bread, rye bread, berry pies, doughnuts, croissants, cinnamon rolls and meringue pastries. He can feel his mouth watering while he notices the raspberry jam pastries that have been alluringly placed on a patterned cloth. However, his attention soon shifts to the Danish pastries with strawberries, and cream filling that almost gushes out of the crust.

"Can I help you?" the shopkeeper asks in a friendly tone. He is familiar with Armin, for he visits the bakery almost every week, sometimes even every other day. Armin feels restless.

"Well, you see, I can't really decide, the raspberry jam pastries look very tasty..." he manages to say. The shopkeeper smiles and raises his brows as Armin's gaze wanders to the Danish pastries.

"The Danish pastries are fresh from the oven!" he says hurriedly. Armin looks at him with a gloomy expression.

"It doesn't matter if they're fresh or not, they'll be dry by the time he comes home," he notes. The shopkeepers nods, now rather awkwardly. Obviously a thing like that is bound to happen.

"Still, they're all downright delicious. We haven't had these raspberry jam pastries here in a while," he informs and then continues finishing the honey cakes. For a moment Armin wanders irresolutely among the shelves, and finally ends up buying both the Danish and raspberry jam pastries. He also asks the shopkeeper to give him a half dozen freshly baked buns, just like all other times he visits the shop. After the door slams and the bell rings, the shopkeeper finds himself feeling deeply compassionate towards that dutiful regular customer, who always carefully picks up the things that he believes to make his special person happy.

The rays of the sun heat the cobbled street as Armin trudges along the city center alleyway towards home. The stone houses are painted in yellow, and through the wooden windows one can observe the happy residents doing their daily chores. But Armin's home is gray and even the windows lack beautiful curtains that could hide the wavering bleakness living inside the house. He walks in, leaves his shoes to the hallway and takes his cardigan off. He takes his purchases to the kitchen and puts the tea kettle on. Diligently he arranges two cups and saucers, two plates and two napkins to the table. The china clinks against the wooden surface. After setting everything to the table, he sits down and starts to read the newspaper. He keeps on reading even though the words seem meaningless in his head. Minutes go by slowly, the words turn into seconds and millions of thoughts lurk between them; glimpses of loneliness and longing.

The clock strikes three when Armin finally hears the door open. Jean enters in, sporting hair that is a total mess ,and eyes surrounded by purplish circles. He walks to Armin, who is still bent over the newspaper, and leans in to kiss the small area between his cheek and ear.

"I'm home," he says huskily. Armin stares at the photo of some deceased actress, at her smiling face among reporters.

"You want some tea?" he asks the other man dryly and lifts his gaze. Jean stretches his muscles and arches his long, narrow back as he looks out of the window.

"I'd rather go to sleep," he answers with a yawn. Armin turns his attention back to the newspaper.

"Well then," Armin responds. He tries to stay strong, but tears spring into his eyes and his hands starts to reach one of the pastries in the table.

Instead of the bedroom Jean walks to him.

"What's with all the sulking?" he asks and raises his hand to stroke his lover's hair. Armin dodges the affectionate gesture.

"It would be nice... if for once I could be saying 'I'm home', don't you think?" he mutters and wipes away the tears in his eyes. For a moment Jean stays silent.

"It's not exactly my fault that you spend your days loitering inside," he finally replies, with an obvious irritation in his words. Armin feels something unpleasant moving inside him, but he continues:

"You're always away! I sit here from night to night all alone, and usually I have to go to bed alone, too! You don't really care about me!" he splutters through tears. Armin hates fighting, but somehow these words are the only way to make the darkness fade for a little while. His stomach aches, like it had been shrank together and then freed again. Instinctively he grabs the nearest pastry he can reach and starts to eat, for it is the sole thing that can bring him courage now.

"I have work to do and a life to live! You should pull yourself together and do something!" Jean snaps at him and bangs his fist on the wooden table. Armin intuitively moves closer to the back of the chair and stuffs a whole Danish pastry into his mouth. While chewing the crust he looks at Jean's appearance; narrow brown eyes which gleam with fury and thirst for life, and tall muscular body that's as tense as a feline who has noticed his prey.

"And for heaven's sake could you please stop munching all that cake! Look at yourself, I bet you've gained like ten kilograms!" Jean exclaims finally and leaves the room with a slam from the bedroom door. Armin feels like time has been stopped. He looks at his wrist that used to be slender and fragile. He wants to throw up, but he knows it's bad for his teeth, and Jean certainly wouldn't fancy a man who is both overweight and has ugly teeth. Instead, he takes the next pastry and starts to nibble it.

When Jean wakes up after a three hour nap, he finds Armin still sitting in the kitchen. The other man has rested his hands on the top of the table and stares powerlessly into the space before him. There he sees a wolf, its black fur and yellow eyes. From what used to be pastries is now left only crumbs and traces of glaze around Armin's mouth. Jean steps silently out of the bedroom; he feels ashamed after the fight. The house seems deserted. Armin is like a non-existent person, like someone whose presence has withered away to something so small, that it doesn't even feel like he was there at all. The walls are gray. Jean is in distress: there is a layer of dust in the cupboard and the cat's litter box has not been cleaned in a long time. The animal itself is also hiding somewhere. He sighs and takes couple of steps towards Armin.

"Sorry, I wasn't being too nice. You aren't overweight, really," he mutters quietly and stares at the floor, at its shades of gray. Armin blinks his eyes and notices that the wolf that was sitting opposite him is gone, or at least hiding.

"It's okay. I wasn't being very nice either," he answers softly and feels like crying again. Their eyes do not meet, but Jean walks through the room to Armin's side.

"Mind if I kiss you?" he asks and rests his hand on the other's shoulder, but Armin smiles at the window and tells him to wash the dishes.

In the evening the two of them lie in each other's arms on a wide bed, Jean is kissing the neck of his beloved and caresses his soft back. However, Armin feels nervous, almost as if he was out of breath. What if after taking his shirt off and seeing his swollen figure Jean will decide that he doesn't want him anymore and turn his back at him? There is no escape, the wolf is staring at him right next to the bed, completely silent and still. He grasps Jean's head with his hands and forces him to look into his eyes. The short hair feels strange in his fingertips, time after time.

"Jean... Let's just sleep tonight, okay? I'm tired..." he tries to sound determined, but the words flow from his mouth slowly and powerlessly. Jean rolls his eyes, clearly frustrated, and Armin feels his own heart sinking.

"Okay then," Jean sighs and lays his head on Armin's chest. After a short while his mouth starts to make the soft sound of snoring.

Armin doesn't really fall asleep; a repetition of so many other nights, but it doesn't bother him since this time he isn't alone. He strokes Jean's ash brown hair, over and over again. It makes him feel simultaneously both happy and melancholic. One day Jean will be his own, that is what the man has promised, but before that Armin will have to wait for many days, for many very lonely and sad days. Jean has yet to walk many paths before he will be able to find the one that will lead him to the peace and warmth of home, without the road branching to a new direction. But when that day arrives, he will obediently come back every night, and they will sit in the kitchen drinking tea and talking about wolves. And at nightfall Armin will light the fire in the oven, and the small white cat will creep out from somewhere and lie to sleep next to the oven, and the members of their small family won't be timid around each other anymore.

In the morning, still waiting to fall asleep, Armin hears Jean rising up from bed to leave for work and then for one of his numerous outings. He slides to his side, kisses Armin's forehead and strokes his nose before he stands up and leaves the room, and Armin feels how his heart aches and pleads for Jean to stay, for he knows that when he is by himself, he still isn't truly alone. He knows that the darkness will grow bigger and take the shape of a beast that no one can escape.

Armin himself doesn't rise up until ten o'clock, and he does that only because he knows that the cat wants to eat. Through the windows the house is filled with the gray, hazy morning light, making everything appear safely familiar and desolately dull. Armin looks out of the window to the yard, and tries to not to think about the desserts that can be found in the bakery. It is difficult, however, because when he tastes the crispy crust of a puff pastry, he is able to forget the misery that lurks in this world for a brief magical moment.

 While getting the newspaper from outside Armin runs into the lady living next door to them. She has her beautiful, chestnut-colored hair pulled into a bun and she is wearing a blouse and a knee-length skirt. She's on her way to work, and flashes a friendly smile to him. He greets her reservedly. Armin has heard from one place or another what this particular lady has said about their family: _That man has taken a wolf as his groom._ He isn't exactly sure what this woman knows about their family and what she doesn't know, but her words had been toxic and Armin wants to believe that the wolf is actually a guest, a tenant who shall be gone on the day when Jean finally settles at home. The woman leaves with a clatter from her leather shoes, and she looks so happy from behind that Armin cannot really do anything but to sigh and return inside to make coffee.

Jean doesn't return home that night, even though Armin had wished for it in whispers over and over again, like he was saying a prayer. The evenings were always the worst; the gray day turned into a black night and darkness spreads inside irrevocably. The kitchen lamp had broken down weeks ago but Armin never remembered to change it before the darkness hit in and then he couldn't see anything. Instead, every night he lights one candle on the table and stares at the fire until it goes out, and then everything is as dark as inside him. He is one with the darkness and the world is as gloomy as the pitch-black fur of the wolf. When Jean arrives home on the evening of the following day, he finds Armin staring at the already extinguished candle, like he has been hypnotized.

"What the hell Armin, what are you doing here in the dark?" he asks in a puzzled tone and lights Armin's dejected face with a flashlight.

"Darkness feels more homelike than light, for in the dark you can't see how sad the situation actually is," Armin replies with a stuttering voice.

"You've gone nuts. Let's go get some sleep," Jean says to him, and no one can hear if he's sorry or amused.

The only thing in their house that Armin doesn't find bleak is the bookshelf. It's packed with books, funny books, boring books, long books, interesting books, practical books and the kind of books that perhaps shouldn't have been written. Once upon a time in his past Armin had heard that he was a natural talent, he had heard that he should keep studying on and on, so that the gift wouldn't be wasted. And back then he had done so and even enjoyed it greatly, but that all was gone now. The wolf had jumped out of the rows of a book and stared over his shoulder. It had ran around the hallways in the school and followed Armin with its lamp-like eyes. In the end he had imagined that the wolf wouldn't find him if he hid away in his home. But he had been mistaken. The wolf had followed him and changed into something even bigger and uglier and more grotesque, and eventually Armin had accepted that the wolf would stay with him for now and there is nothing he can do about it.

And sometimes he stands in front of the bookshelf and stares at his past that can be written with the titles of all the books he's read and he does his best to forget them all, but doesn't succeed in it. One day he picks up one of the books, titled _Algebra,_ takes it outside and leaves it next to the front door. It brings him a strange kind of satisfaction. He takes another book and brings it outside; a third one, then a fourth, and so on. With every book goes a small fragment of the painful and humiliating past. When twenty-three books have been taken away, Armin feels like he has finally accomplished something. For a moment he keeps on staring at the result of his work, and then returns inside to snag his keys and go grocery shopping. He ponders if it would be better to burn the books now or wait for the garbage truck to take them away. Whatever to keep them away from his eyes and his life.

The empty shelves radiate dreariness in the living room. The darkness will soon settle in them; wind itself around them and turn them meaningless. Armin doesn't care anymore when something like that happens. It was almost liberating to see that there was nothing else than darkness. But then there is Jean. Armin remembers the serious words he heard from his friend Eren: _If you truly want him, take him, but I will remind you that you won't be able to make someone like him to stay in one place._

And when one day Jean stays away for five days and Armin feels himself so distressed that he believes he will die from stomach ache caused by jelly-filled doughnuts, he remembers those words and understands that they hold the unchangeable truth. No one can cure Jean from his restlessness, not even Jean himself until he understands what loneliness really is like, and if Armin always obediently waits for him at home; it will go on like that until he, Armin, withers away.

But there was always a second option. First he didn't want to think about it, but during those five lonely days when he battled with the wolf, the thought of it started to smoulder like a poorly extinguished fire. When Jean at last returns with an empty stare in his feline eyes and he doesn't even bother to apologize, the smouldering fire bursts into flames. Even though Armin has promised to love Jean more than anything in this world, as he does, for this one time he is forced to choose himself over Jean. The decision is tough but once it's done, everything feels lighter. Yet he hesitates, comes up every day with something better to do; cleans up the shelves and washes the floor, arranges the spice-rack and buys a new collar for the cat. Every day he irons a clean new shirt for Jean and whispers to his ear that he loves him, and every time the reply is: "I know." And as the nights get darker and darker, Armin stops lighting candles and just goes straight to the bed, covers his head with a blanket, and wishes that he will fall asleep.

Armin decides to open his mouth when Jean stays late out, once again. He has lit the fire in the fireplace and lets it illuminate the room. The cat creeps out from its hideout quietly and jumps to her owner's lap, meowing softly. You're lonely too, aren't you, Armin thinks and wraps the blanket tighter around himself. Finally Jean arrives, opening the door with a loud bang and comes in so hurriedly that it seems like he was running. He sits on the sofa and snatches Armin into his arms. He doesn't seem to be at all grumpy like usual, but strangely cheerful, and he smells like alcohol and cigarettes.

"Guess what day it is tomorrow?" he asks and rests his head on Armin's shoulder, his eyes seek the gaze of the other, like he was pleading something. Armin is well aware that tomorrow is their anniversary, but it's odd that the fact comes up now, as they've never celebrated it before.

"Our anniversary," he answers feeling the dryness in his mouth, avoiding Jean's stare that is intense and burning.

"Sure is. And I'll take you out for dinner and we can be together for the whole day. You mean a lot to me, dear Armin," he purrs against his shoulder and kisses his cheeks and strokes the head of the cat.

Armin feels himself paralyzed. For a moment everything is like he has always wanted; just like the wishes he has whispered on the edge of his pillow on sleepless nights; ones that had always been in vain. But it is transient, for he now understands that what makes Jean so restless inside these walls is the exact same thing that doesn't let Armin himself go out of the doors. And nothing will get better before the wolves have been chased away, and that is something they cannot do together.

"It can't go on like this," he says. Jean's smile fades and Armin wishes he could run away for so long that he would be able to forget all of this.

"We have to go to our separate paths," he continues, and everything breaks into pieces, tears stream down Jean's cheeks; he is crying. Armin doesn't even remember the last time he saw him crying, and now his words are the reason why he does so. Armin wants to take back everything he has said and hug Jean, but the decision has been made and it cannot be withdrawn. And Armin cries as well.

"Why are you saying that? Don't be silly! You can't be serious!" Jean croaks in a harsh tone, his eyes and nose running, and Armin shakes his head violently. He is serious!

Jean walks around the living room and keeps on repeating _you can't be serious, you're only saying that because you are so tired,_ and now Armin knows that Jean can't understand his loneliness before he has experienced it himself. He can't understand the power of the wolf before he has arrived home and met it staring over the threshold. Jean goes to the bedroom and shuts the door after him, and Armin goes looking for a cat carrier. After finding it he lures out the animal that is hiding under the sofa, and locks the quietly crying creature in the white cage. It's sad to take the cat away from her home, but he knows that Jean won't remember to take care of her.

He then goes to get some of his stuff and packs them in his backpack as the clock strikes half past eleven. Eren has earlier given him the permission to stay at his place. Armin looks at the dark kitchen and living room, the home where he cannot live anymore. Silently he presses his ear to the door of the bedroom, and after hearing the snores he opens the door slightly. When he turns the light on, he sees Jean sleeping in a strangely stiff pose, still wearing his dress shirt. The surroundings of his eyes are red from crying. Inside Armin there is just darkness and emptiness; the wolf has taken over everything, literally everything. He closes the door with a click, collects his stuff along with the cat carrier and leaves the house. Eren's residence is around one and half kilometers walk away. The city is full of mist and for a brief moment Armin is wandering in the border between the past and the future. He could well turn around, but he doesn't.

Eren is on a trip over the weekend but Armin has a key in his pocket. Even in the shades of dusk the house looks cozy. There is a big layered cake in the fridge. Armin feels how his eyes get glued to the cake; to the whipped cream and berries that have been spread on the top of it. Before he actually starts thinking about it, he has gotten himself a spoon and started to eat the mix of sugar and fat and flour and cream and berries, because in this moment he feels that it's the only thing that can fill the void inside him. He probably couldn't stop even if he wanted to. His hand keeps on spooning a new bite until there is nothing left from the cake. There isn't anything else other than the feeling of nausea after the plate is empty. Armin rises up to free the cat from the carrier, and then he runs to the bathroom in order to throw up. After vomiting up everything possible, he ends up staring at the walls and the ceiling that have been painted in shades of blue, and the seashell-shaped lamps that have been placed there. Through his tears it seems like he is in heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: With the generous and much appreciated help from the user Aespren, I have made a revised translation. 
> 
> First and foremost I want to apologize any possible grammatical errors and obscure structures that may occur in the text. As mentioned, Finnish is my first language and roughly saying it's structurally rather different from English. While I myself find my competence in written English pretty decent, I am not fortunate enough to know someone who speaks English as their first language so well that I could ask them to edit my translation. However, I want to wholeheartedly thank my dear friend Paula for reading my text beforehand and giving some valuable commentary. It's good to know that the translation is passable for someone who has English as second language.
> 
> The reasons why I decided to translate this fic of mine were more or less out of my sincere wish to observe how non-Finnish readers would respond to my writing. I'm particularly interested in how culture affects to both writing and reader response. I can obviously analyse the texts of other people and my own response to them, but by this way I might be able to see how people perceive my own writing.
> 
> The translation of this fic was simple enough in the sense that it doesn't contain concepts or words that are difficult to express to non-Finnish audience. (I have fics that are very much like that, especially "Mustavuori" which is set in contemporary Finland). The only exception is perhaps a pastry Armin picks from the bakery in the beginning of the story – I have translated the pastry that is called in English as "Alexander torte" as "raspberry jam pastry", for I felt that the pastry is not that well-known outside Europe. Content-wise, the translation is very much unaltered from the original text, but I did change the title and the summary. The original title was simply "Sudet", translating into "The Wolves".
> 
> Lastly I want to add that I am very much open to constructive criticism.


End file.
